Meet The McCartys
by bronzehairedgirl
Summary: Emmett enjoys telling Bella about his human life. A series of one shots.
1. Just the Facts, Ma'am

_**Just the Facts, Ma'am**_

By bronzehairedgirl

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: After realizing my list of facts was almost a page long I decided to put this in a chapter of its own rather than listing them in the author's note in every chapter. I wanted it to be clear what things are known and what things I made up.

Emmett "facts" we know from Stephenie:

**Facts are in bold.**

_Things we can imply from the facts are in italics._

1. **Emmett's last name was McCarty.**

2. **Emmett was the youngest of a huge Scotch-Irish-American brood.**

3. **Emmett was from Gatlinburg, TN.**

4. **The bear attack happened in 1935 when Emmett was 20 years old. **_The bear that mauled him must have been a black bear because there are no grizzly bears in the Appalachian Mountains._

5. **Emmett was born in 1915.**

6. **Since ****Emmett thought his change was the fires of Hell and he figured he had earned that end,****_we know that Emmett must have had some colorful experiences as a human. (But he couldn't have done anything too bad -- he's Emmett!)_**

7. **He loves any kind of competition or challenge.**

8. **He likes to gamble with Jasper.**

9. **We know that Emmett has a 4.0 like the other Cullens, so he's smart.****_He may not have been overly educated as a human, but he was not and is not stupid._**

**10. ****He was mauled by the bear and Rosalie saved him. He reminded her of her friend's baby, the baby she would never have, and she couldn't let him die.**

11. **He thought Rosalie was an angel and fell madly in love with her. He will do anything for Rosalie.**

12. **He loves his family and will do whatever it takes to protect them. He considers Bella a part of the family. He's a great brother.**

13. **He's straightforward and says exactly what he thinks. He doesn't edit.**

Everything else is from the fantasy world inside my Emmett-obsessive brain. It's a lovely place to be! ;D


	2. Prologue

**Meet the McCartys**

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: This piece started as a simple one-shot. As I was writing I continued to have ideas about Emmett's human years, so I decided this would be a series of one-shots.

A HUGE thank you to my wonderful betas – silly bella, Be My Escape, and Cocoa – for keeping me in line where Emmett is concerned. ;D

McCarty – Emmett's last name before becoming a Cullen

_**Prologue**_

By bronzehairedgirl

It's fun to talk to Bella. As we get to know each other better it makes me realize just how easy it is to talk to her. And she seems to enjoy listening. I can always count on a captive audience when I begin telling her bits and pieces about my human life. Sharing these memories has always made me happy, but it has been a long time since anyone really wanted to listen. It is just too painful for Rose to talk about our human past, so I don't subject her to that. The rest of them have already heard all of my stories over the years and aren't very interested in hearing them again. I can always count on Esme to kindly listen when I really want to talk, but having a fresh audience with genuine reactions is undeniably satisfying.

All of us miss the people we loved as humans, but I enjoy reminiscing about my family. It keeps them close. Over the years I have struggled to recollect every possible detail of my human life – everyone and everything I loved – and commit them to memory.

Sharing those stories with Bella is a little like taking her home to meet the McCarty clan.


	3. Tea Party

**Meet the McCartys **

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: After reading the second chapter of _The Greatest of These_, Cocoa had mentioned that she would love to read the "Misadventures of Uncle Emmett". After Cocoa's suggestion I found myself constantly thinking about Emmett's human life – not that I needed an excuse to think about Emmett. LOL! I wrote this chapter first because the tea party was what prompted Cocoa to make her comment.

A HUGE thank you to my wonderful betas – silly bella, Be My Escape, and Cocoa – for keeping me in line where Emmett is concerned. :D

_**Tea Party**_

By bronzehairedgirl

I sat talking to Bella while Edward was busy helping Esme with a few things. I had been telling her stories about my life, and this latest conversation had been about my human family. She looked up smiling. "What?" I asked suspiciously.

Her smile grew. "You had a real soft spot for your nieces and nephews, didn't you?"

I gave her a sideways glance as I chuckled. "Yes, I did."

"So tell me about a favorite memory with your nieces."

I pretended to think for a moment, although I already knew my favorite memory. I was actually listening closely trying to figure out where the other members of my family were at the moment. No one seemed to be in earshot, so I settled back and began telling her about a time just a few months before the bear attack.

She listened thoughtfully as I began:

I sat in the swing on the front porch of my brother's house drinking a cold glass of my sister-in-law's homemade lemonade. I would much rather have something stronger, but that would have to wait until later. The day had been sunny and pleasantly warm. But as the sun began to slide toward the horizon there was a slight chill in the air – winter trying to remind us that it wasn't gone yet. I had spent the day repairing the roof with my two brothers and my brother-in-law. The winter had been a harsh one, and the roof wouldn't stand a chance against the spring rains that would soon start. None of us had much money, but somehow we came up with the supplies we needed. Family members supplied the free labor, and my family was a large one. You could always find someone to help you. I relished the physical work. My family knew they could always count on my help. In return, I knew I could count on a good meal. The McCarty clan always stuck together and helped each other out. That had never been truer than during these last few years since the depression hit.

My brothers and brother-in-law had wandered down to the fields. They were talking about this year's crops and speculating about prices. I didn't have my own farm and really didn't know much about crop prices, so I stayed at the house, resting for a bit before heading back home.

I sat watching my three nieces play at the other end of the long porch. I could hear my two nephews exploring out in the woods. I couldn't help but smile at the boys' whoop of discovery. No doubt, they had just found something that no one else in the world had ever seen. Six-year-old Mary and five-year-old Evelyn were my brother's girls. Little three-year-old Emmeline – I called her Emmie – was my sister's daughter.

Emmie was small for her age, but what she lacked in size she made up for in spunk. I've always joked that of course my namesake would be strong, strong enough to carve out a special place in my heart.

The three of them had their heads together, whispering something. Evelyn raised her head to look at me, a mischievous smile playing across her face. I gave her a wink and wondered what they were up to.

Mary ran into the house and came back out a few minutes later carrying one of her most treasured possessions, her toy china tea set. I had pitched in with a few of my family members to buy her the set for Christmas. My sisters had insisted that every little girl needed a tea set. It's like a rite of passage or something. Everyone in the family joined together to make sure each child got a toy. We didn't have much money, no one did these days, but together we came up with enough. The set looked fragile with its tiny pink flowers painted on the white porcelain. But Mary diligently guarded her treasure. I smiled as she carefully arranged the cups and saucers, the tiny plates, and miniature silverware. When she was done Mary and Evelyn placed their rag dolls, which Momma had made for them last year, in front of two of the place settings. Six place settings, three girls and two dolls. I knew what was coming.

Emmie skipped over to me, her dark brown curls bouncing. "Uncle Em? Please come to our tea party." She looked at me with those big green eyes and I melted. They knew I could never say no to them. She wrapped her tiny fist around one of my fingers and I let her lead me to the other end of the porch. I sat down on the floor next to them and looked into three pairs of expectant eyes.

"Good afternoon, ladies. Thank you for inviting me," I smiled warmly. They giggled.

They had found some old hats that were fashionable in the early '20s and each of them wore one. Mary was wearing a pair of white gloves that had seen better days. Emmie stood, and stretching up on her tiptoes, placed one of Grandpa McCarty's old hats on my head. Mary poured 'tea' in each cup and served the 'refreshments'. I gingerly picked up my tea cup to take a sip. I felt clumsy trying to hold the tiny cup in my oversized hand. It was awkward, but I somehow managed to pinch the cup handle between my thumb and finger. Then I took a bite of the invisible cookie. "Miss Mary, you have outdone yourself. I do believe this is the best cookie I have ever had." She smiled shyly and blushed a little. I chuckled and leaned over to Evelyn, whispering loudly, "Your sister is an excellent hostess. The tea and cookies are very good after a long day of working. I hope she invites me again sometime."

Evelyn smiled knowingly, "Oh, she will." I instantly understood that this would not be my last tea party.

I heard a soft noise and looked over my shoulder. My sister stood in the doorway, smiling ear to ear. I sighed. I'd been caught. At least it wasn't one of my brothers. I was thankful for that.

I stood and with a tip of the hat and a slight bow said, "Thank you girls for the pleasant afternoon." They giggled again and continued their tea party as I walked to the door.

"That was so sweet, Emmett. You have no idea how much they enjoy it when you play with them like that." My sister smiled and stepped forward to give me a kiss on the cheek. It was my turn to be embarrassed.

"I just can't turn them down. They look at me with those big, innocent eyes and I give in to whatever it is they want me to do." I shook my head and laughed.

She laughed, too. "A big, tough guy like you and they have you wrapped around their tiny little fingers."

I laughed again. "Yeah, I guess they do."

"You know," she said with a heartfelt smile, "you're going to make a great father one day."

I looked down at my feet and shrugged my shoulder noncommittally. I just hoped I never had a girl show up at my door informing me of my impending parenthood.

I looked back at my nieces, watching their smiles. Even in the middle of all the hardship of the past few years, they were happy. It was the little things in life that made it worth living. I would always remember them this way. Happy, smiling and loved.

A soft squeeze on my hand jarred me into the present. Bella smiled as she held my hand. Something about her made me feel protective, something more than the fact that she was human. Like Emmie, she was strong in ways that mattered – ways that had nothing to do with physical strength – and had carved out her own place in my heart.

"That was nice Emmett." She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone your weakness."

I laughed heartily. "I'm going to hold you to that."


	4. Namesake

**Meet the McCartys **

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: A HUGE thank you to my wonderful betas – silly bella, Lomesir, Cocoa, and Be My Escape – for keeping me in line where Emmett is concerned. :D

_**Namesake**_

By bronzehairedgirl

Bella and Edward were sitting together on the couch, laughing softly, as I bounded down the steps. "What's up guys? Mind if I join you?" I asked as I sat down in a chair across from them.

"Do we have a choice?" Edward inquired dryly. Bella elbowed him in the ribs and then winced.

I laughed as Bella rubbed her elbow. When would she learn? "What were you two talking about?" Bella blushed, and I laughed again. "That bad?"

"No," Edward's tone warned, "just private." Private? Since when did we start keeping secrets in this house? Bella's deepening blush provided enough of an answer. But she would have to get used to the lack of privacy eventually. Although, she didn't have it as bad as everyone else since Edward couldn't read _her_ mind. Edward glared. I snorted, but kept my thoughts between the two of us.

Bella snuggled up to Edward's side as he draped his arm around her, pulling her close. Turning back to me, she smiled. "I'd like to hear some more of your stories."

"Is there something specific you'd like to hear, or would you like me to just pick something?" I asked jokingly and chuckled as she considered my question.

"Well," she hesitated, thinking, "Your eyes light up whenever you talk about Emmie. She was very special to you wasn't she?"

I smiled broadly and saw Edward's grin as memories of Emmie – running, playing, snuggling in my lap, giving me a toddler's version of a bear hug – filled my thoughts. "Yes, she was."

"Tell me why."

"Why what?" I was puzzled by exactly what she meant.

"You obviously loved all your nieces and nephews." I nodded my agreement. "What made Emmie more special than the others? What made her—your favorite?" She watched me with genuine curiosity.

I thought for a moment. How could I possibly explain what Emmie meant to me? "Well," I started, "I suppose I need to start at the beginning, at least the beginning of Emmie's life."

This was one memory that had not faded over the years. I thought of it often enough that I never had to struggle to remember the details like I did other parts of my human life. I loved my 'first' family, and this was the only way I could still be with them.

Edward grinned as Bella settled in to listen and my mind took me back to Appalachia.

The cool morning air was invigorating. It was early autumn and the mountains were just beginning to show spots of color among the rolling waves of green. Stepping out of the barn, I blinked into the bright rays of the rising sun. I had finished mucking out the horse stalls and was about to head down to the fields. I was staying at my sister's for a few days while her husband was on an extended hunting trip. Richard wasn't satisfied with the amount of meat they had even though their hog would be ready to slaughter soon. He wanted to be better prepared, so he and two of my brothers went out hunting, hoping to get enough to last a good long while. Beth was very pregnant and Richard didn't like leaving her. This was her first child and the pregnancy had been difficult.

Beth and I had always been close. She was three when I was born and loved playing with me. She had probably thought I was some new doll or something. As we got older we grew closer, able to talk to each other about things we wouldn't dare tell our other siblings. Naturally, I had volunteered to stay with her, doing all the farm chores, while Richard was gone.

"EMMETT! Emmett, come quick!" I spun toward the house at the sound of Beth's panicked scream – a sound that sent chills down my spine.

I ran for the house, wishing my legs could carry me faster.

"Beth! Where are you?" I yelled as I pushed through the front door, searching for the source of the terrified voice.

"Here." Her voice sounded strangled.

I found her in the kitchen, one hand gripping the back of a chair, the other pressed against her very large belly. She was pale, and the fear I saw on her face nearly stopped my heart. "What is it?" I demanded.

"It's too early," she cried out as her face twisted in obvious pain.

"What's too early? What's wrong?" I asked, mystified and not sure what to do.

"The baby, Emmett," she said finally, as her body relaxed. "The baby is coming."

I stared at her. This wasn't supposed to be happening. "What do I need to do?" I managed to croak out. A multitude of thoughts jumbled together making it impossible to think clearly. Did I need to go get the doctor? Did I need to take her to the doctor? Should I help her lie down? Should I carry her to the truck? I was sure my face was as pale as hers had been a few seconds ago. Something I had heard before suddenly came to mind. "Boil water!" I nearly shouted as I turned to search for a large pot.

Beth's short, clipped laugh drew my attention back to her. "No, Emmett, bring me my shoes, they're in the bedroom. Then go get the truck and pull up to the house. I'll call the doctor." She always was the cool-headed one. Her voice was calm now, probably for my benefit, but I could still see the fear in her eyes.

I nodded and moved to follow her instructions, glancing first at her bare, swollen feet. I found her shoes, but had my doubts that she would be able to get them on. Seeing a pair of slippers by the bed, I grabbed both pairs and took them to her. One way or another she would have something on her feet.

Heading outside to the truck I overheard her on the phone. "About four weeks… Yes…Yes, we're leaving now."

I ran to the truck and climbed into the cab. The keys were already in the ignition, right where I knew they would be. I pulled to the front of the house and ran in to get Beth. I helped her to the truck, stopping once when the pain made it impossible for her to keep walking. I offered to carry her, but she wouldn't let me.

Driving as fast as I dared down the rut-riddled dirt road I chanced a few anxious glances at Beth. She winced with each bounce of the truck. I was torn between wanting to slow down, making it more comfortable for her, and wanting to get her to the doctor as fast as possible.

The truck hit a large hole that threatened to swallow us completely, and Beth let out a sharp cry of pain. "Sorry. Want me to slow down?" I asked, letting off the gas pedal slightly.

Shaking her head, she answered, "No, just try to avoid the bigger bumps."

I laughed nervously. "If you know a smoother road between here and Doc's office, by all means, tell me."

She was shaking her head again but wasn't able to talk as she clenched her teeth in pain. A few minutes later she relaxed and finally spoke. "We're not going to Doc's office. We need to go to the hospital."

"What?" I was stunned. "Doc's office is closer. It'll take fifteen more minutes to get to the hospital." Was she not thinking clearly? She needed help now.

"Emmett," she spoke softly but with the authority of my older sister. "This is all happening too soon. The baby won't have any chance to survive unless we get to the hospital before it's born. It may need help breathing or getting its heart beating correctly. And—" She hesitated and swallowed hard. When she spoke again I could barely hear her above the roar of the truck. "_I_ need to get to the hospital."

Realization slowly dawned on me. The doctor's frequent visits. The problematic pregnancy. Beth's earlier panic as she stood in the kitchen. Her words now. The overwhelming fear in her eyes threatening to consume her whole body. Beth _needed_ the care she would receive in a hospital.

The baby might not live.

I took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'll get you there. Don't worry. Everything will be okay."

I spent the rest of the drive wishing I could take away her pain. I felt so useless every time she cried out and squeezed her eyes shut. "Contractions," she had said. "Nothing to worry about." But I did any way.

A little more than a half hour later I stood watching as Beth was rushed down a hallway. The nurse informed me that I would have to stay in the waiting area.

I hated this. I needed to _do_ something. Beth was scared and I wanted to help her. But how? Richard wouldn't be back for at least two more days and there was no way to get in touch with him. Then it hit me – Momma. There hadn't been time to call anyone. I needed to call Momma; she should be here.

Using a hospital phone, I listened as the line rang. "Hello?" she finally answered.

"Momma." I fought to keep the distress out of my voice.

"Emmett? Emmett, what's wrong?" she asked, her immediate alarm apparent. Did mothers have some extra sense or something that let them know when their child was in trouble?

I quickly explained the situation and hung up after her promise to get to the hospital as fast as possible.

The wait was excruciating and almost drove me insane. Even after Momma got there I couldn't help but pace the floor. I was worried. Worried about Beth. Worried about the baby. I knew how much Beth wanted a child. She had always wanted a big family like ours with lots of kids filling the house. She would be devastated if the baby died. If the baby died… I didn't even want to think about that possibility.

I looked over at Momma, taking in her appearance – the dark circles under her eyes, the lines creasing her brow. She was worried, too. Not just worried, I realized. Scared. And not much scared her. She had given birth to twelve of us – eight boys and four girls. She had been pregnant twice between Beth and me. The first time the baby came early and was stillborn. The next time she lost the baby early in the pregnancy. She says she never worried about any of that when she was pregnant with me. To hear her tell it, I started raising hell before I was even born.

I watched Momma. The fact that she was scared combined with the fact that we were at the hospital told me the situation was critical. My other sisters and my brothers' wives had all given birth at home or, in a few rare cases, had gone to the Doc's office. But none of them had ever gone to the hospital.

Beth had told me she had been having some problems the last couple of months. I didn't know all the details, but the things she complained about – nausea, headaches, swelling – didn't seem all that significant to me. But the doctor seemed to think they were. So much so that he had been checking in on her once, sometimes twice, each week for the last month.

Taking in my surroundings again, watching a nurse hurry down the hallway, I thought about Beth's other complaints – her heart beating too fast, trouble breathing at times. I knew those things were dangerous. I had worried when she mentioned them yesterday.

I fought hard against my rising panic as the enormity of the situation settled in. Could Beth's life be in danger, too? Had that been why the doctor was so concerned about her condition? Is that what she had meant in the truck? I had been worried about Beth's reaction if the baby died. But what if they both died? I couldn't bear the thought of it.

My anxiety rose with each passing minute. I walked around the waiting area for what must have been the hundredth time before returning to my seat beside Momma. Leaning back in the chair, I closed my eyes and let out a long sigh. What was taking so long? There was nothing normal about this situation. I knew that without being told. But Momma tried to reassure me. "Sometimes it takes a while, Emmett. Babies don't always come quickly." She took one of my hands and held it between both of hers. With a weak smile she continued, "Beth is going to be fine. Everything will be okay. You'll see." I stared at our hands, mine spilling out from between her weathered ones. Momma's hands were firm enough to punish, yet gentle enough to comfort. Their gentleness at that moment helped more than her words.

However, I didn't fully believe her optimism. I wanted to. There was nothing I wanted more than to believe this was a routine birth, and Beth and the baby would be perfectly healthy when I saw them. But I had seen too many animals give birth on the farm. A slow birth usually meant there were problems.

I fought to hang on to hope, but I feared the worst.

The last streaks of sunset had faded, leaving the sky dark, when a nurse came to the waiting area. "Mr. McCarty?"

I turned, looking for my father or older brothers. She had to be speaking to me because they weren't here. "Yes?"

"Your sister is asking to see you. Please come with me." Asking to see me? She was alive! Part of me collapsed with relief inside. Beth had made it through this. At least that one fear could be put to rest.

Walking into Beth's room I looked around. There were three other people in hospital beds, but no sign of the baby. I had no idea if that was good or bad. My eyes focused on Beth. She looked exhausted and upset. I wasn't sure, but it looked like she had been crying.

"Beth?" I whispered as I took her hand in mine. She opened her eyes and the tears ran down her cheeks.

Momma rushed to the other side of her bed. "Oh, honey, it's going to be all right."

Even though I thought I knew the answer, I cleared my throat and asked hoarsely, "The baby?"

Beth squeezed my hand. "A girl," she said, smiling. "We made it in time, Emmett. She's alive." I stared at her, not believing what I heard. The baby was alive? That wasn't the answer I had expected.

Just as I began to feel the joy connected to this news doubt yanked it away, replacing it with dread when Beth's smile faded. There was more, and I had a sinking feeling it wasn't good news. "The doctor said the odds aren't very good. Babies born this early usually don't live more than a few days. But she's a fighter. We'll just have to wait and see."

"Of course she's a fighter," I smiled and tried to sound positive. "She's got McCarty blood in her."

Beth laughed, but it was without joy. "That she does." Her face turned serious as she looked me in the eyes. "I named her Emmeline after Great-Grandpa Emmett."

I grinned, "You named her after me?"

She chuckled, "Not exactly. I said after Great-Grandpa Emmett."

"But after me, too," I insisted. After all, I had been named after Great-Grandpa Emmett.

"You are so stubborn! Maybe she should be named after you." Beth smiled weakly. "She'll need your strength to pull through this."

"She can have it," I replied sincerely. I would do anything to take the pain and fear from my sister's eyes.

Momma reached across the bed to touch my hand. "It's a good name. A strong name." She looked back at Beth and smiled.

I was perplexed. I loved the idea of someone being named after me, but—a girl? I had to ask. "Beth? Why name your daughter after Great-Grandpa Emmett? Why not wait until you have a son?"

As I watched, Beth's eyes closed and the tears ran in streams down her cheeks. I was horrified and bewildered. Why had my question made her cry?

Momma smoothed Beth's hair and spoke softly to her, trying to comfort and calm her.

Squeezing my hand tightly, Beth finally opened her eyes. "I'll never have a son. There were—complications."

The blow of this news staggered me. Momma was crying now, too. I knew this fact devastated Beth every bit as much as if the baby had died. She was grieving for all the children she would never have.

Again, the people I loved were hurting and there was nothing I could do to protect them from the pain.

I sat in silent support with her after that, simply holding her hand until a nurse brought the baby in. Beth's face lit up as she held her newborn. She was a natural mother.

I watched, awestruck, as Beth unwrapped the baby to look at her. She was so small, her whole body not even as long as Beth's arm from elbow to hand. Dark hair the same color as mine and Beth's covered her head. I frowned, "Do they always look like that?"

Beth looked offended. "Like what?"

I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Her skin looks too big, it's all wrinkled and baggy. And what's with the hair all over her body? It makes her look more like a bear than a baby."

Beth opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

I looked at her and then back to the baby. "Well, it does."

Momma laughed and patted Beth's hand while speaking to me. "You've never seen a baby so soon after it was born. All babies have wrinkled skin at first. Some more than others. During the last month before they are born, babies plump up. She didn't have that time so that's why her skin looks loose. She also has that peach fuzz because she was born early. All babies have it, but it normally falls out before they are born. It'll fall off in a few weeks and then she'll look like any other baby."

"Oh," was all I could think to say.

Beth stared at me. "My baby does _not_ look like a bear."

I leaned in for a closer look and laughed, "Sure she does. And right now you look about as ornery as a momma bear." That did it. Beth's eyes crinkled and she laughed out loud.

I stood by the bed watching as Beth went back to exploring the baby's appearance, counting fingers and toes. After a few minutes she looked at me with a sparkle in her eyes. "Would you like to hold her, Emmett?" she asked. Beth knew I enjoyed playing with my other nieces and nephews, but this was different. The baby was so little and fragile looking.

"I—I don't know," I stammered, taking a step backwards, completely unsure. I looked at Momma. It didn't seem right that I would be the first to hold the baby before Momma had a chance, but she was smiling and nodding for me to go ahead.

"Come on," Beth encouraged, smiling. "Don't let this opportunity pass you by. It'll be something you'll always remember." She gently placed the baby in my arms and I stared in wonder. She was so tiny, the palm of her hand not much larger than my thumbnail.

She squirmed, snuggling closer into my chest. I felt an immediate connection to this child and knew at that moment I would do everything I could to protect her, to help her survive.

"You're a fighter," I whispered softly. "You're strong, like me. Don't give up Emmie. You can have all my strength if you need it. Just don't give up the fight."

"Emmie?" Beth asked curiously.

I smiled. "If you're goin' to name her after me—us," I corrected and Beth laughed lightly. "Well—Emmie sounds more like Emmett. Call her what you want, but I'm calling her Emmie."

Beth smiled, true happiness touching her eyes this time. We had learned years before that life was precious. You had to embrace every minute of it and enjoy it because you never knew when it might end.

Beth hadn't known how right she was when she said I would never forget that moment. I closed my eyes, seeing every detail as if it had happened yesterday. I could almost feel the gentle touch of Emmie's hand squeezing my finger. Edward's intentional cough brought me back to the present, back to Forks. Bella was smiling even as a couple of tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Emmie was premature," Bella said softly, "and she survived—at a time when most premature babies didn't make it."

"Yes," I smiled. "She survived those first tense weeks and continued to thrive. Once she learned to walk she became my shadow. We had a special bond and, to some degree, I suppose we always will. I can still feel it—here," I said, placing my fist over my dead, non-beating heart.

"And Beth?" she asked, genuinely concerned.

"Other than the emergency hysterectomy she was fine." I waited while that sunk in. "They're both still alive you know."

Bella's eyes widened in surprise and her mouth formed a circle. She'd never realized, had never thought about that possibility.

Edward studied Bella who was apparently thinking about what I had told her. "There's more to his story about Emmie, but it'll have to wait until another time. I need to get you home before Charlie sends out a search party."

Bella looked disappointed, but she nodded. "You're right." Turning to look at me she asked, "Promise to finish telling me about Emmie?"

"Promise," I laughed.

One day I would have to tell her how she reminds me both of Emmie, because of her strength, and of Beth, because she's so easy to talk to.


	5. In The Grain

**Meet the McCartys **

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the authors. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: A HUGE thank you to my wonderful betas for keeping me in line where Emmett is concerned. :D

A special thanks to Pompeii for letting me steal her genius idea and expand on it. Her story _Distraction_ inspired this chapter. If you haven't read it yet, look her up under the penname Skipper Pompeii. After reading her story you'll see the connection.

**In The Grain **

By bronzehairedgirl

I ran my hand across the surface, feeling for any imperfections. There were none. It was smoother than a baby's butt. No, even better than that, it was smoother than Rosalie's butt. Grinning at the thought, I reluctantly forced my focus back to the task at hand. This was _for_ Rosalie; it had to be perfect.

The grain and color of both the cedar and the cherry were exceptional. It needed no stain, only a sealer to finish it off. I glided the brush across the wood in a smooth, even stroke. My speed was no use here. My other advantages helped – a rock steady hand that allowed perfect precision while carving, exceptional vision that allowed me to see the finest details of the grain, a heightened sense of touch that allowed me to feel the minutest of flaws, an intense sense of smell that allowed me to detect the smallest hint of rot – but speed was a hindrance. This required patience, lots of patience. And Rose was the only one for whom I was willing to tame my impatience.

The first time I made her something – a workbench – her reaction had surprised me. She was shocked that I had taken the time and effort to _make_ something for her rather than simply buying her some fancy bobble. She realized how special she was to me. I vowed then and there that I would use this particular skill to make things for Rose and no one else.

This chest would hopefully make up for the storage trunk I demolished while fuming about my latest wrestling loss to Jasper. I had entered our bedroom and demonstrated my frustration by thoughtlessly kicking the trunk where Rose kept various mementoes and sentimental items. What I meant to be a light kick had, in reality, the same impact as a sledge hammer on the trunk. Maybe it was just old, or maybe I kicked it harder than I realized, but the trunk splintered into hundreds of pieces. Luckily, none of the items inside were damaged. All the same, Rosalie was furious. Her anger I could handle, but the hurt I saw in her eyes devastated me. I had destroyed something important to her.

I _needed_ to remove that hurt from Rosalie's eyes. Making her a chest where she could keep her things was the best thing I could think of to make up for what I had done. I searched every lumber yard for hundreds of miles around until I found the perfect pieces of wood. The extensive search was well worth the perfection of the finished product.

I paused in my work when I heard Bella's truck coming up the driveway. Glancing at my watch, I wondered why she was here. Esme and I were the only ones home. Edward and Jasper were hunting, Alice and Rosalie had gone out for a little "retail therapy", and Carlisle was at the hospital. I waited as Bella parked her truck and got out. The sound of her footsteps indicated she was going into the house so I turned back to the job of sealing the wood.

I had just finished applying the sealer and was cleaning the brush when I heard Bella come back out of the house. She didn't get in her truck though. Instead, she was headed toward the garage where I was working.

"Come on in, Bella," I responded to her knock.

She poked her head around the door and smiled. "Esme said I would find you out here."

"Well, you found me," I said, holding my arms out in a here-I-am gesture. "What's up?"

"I got off work a little early and thought I would stop by to see if Edward was back yet. Do you know when he might be home?" she asked hopefully.

I shrugged. "Anytime I suppose. I know he wanted to be back by the time you got off."

"Mind if I hang out with you then until they get back?"

"'Course not. I was just finishing up here," I nodded to the chest as I picked up tools.

I heard a quick intake of breath and glanced over my shoulder to Bella. "It's beautiful! You did this?" she asked, amazed. I grabbed her wrist as she reached her hand forward to touch it. Her eyes were wide with shock as she looked up at me.

"It's still wet. Don't touch it," I explained as I released her arm. Hopefully, I wasn't too rough when I grabbed her wrist. Edward would kill me if she ended up with a bruised arm.

"Oh, sorry," she apologized as she blushed in embarrassment.

"Tragedy averted. And that," I pointed to her face, "made up for it." She turned even redder as I laughed. "And, yes."

She looked at me, confused. "Yes? Yes, what?"

"Yes, ma'am," I offered, having a brief flashback moment of being taught to say 'ma'am' and 'sir' as a child. Her brow furrowed in further confusion as she stared at me, so I continued, "I made that."

Returning her attention to the chest, she bent to get a closer look. "The details are amazing! 'Beautiful' doesn't do it justice. Why isn't the house full of things you've made?"

"I only make things for Rosalie. It keeps it special."

She nodded, grasping my meaning. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You've had long enough to learn and perfect such a skill. Although, I would have never guessed that you would pursue something like this as a distraction."

I grinned at her use of Edward's term as I shook my head. "It's not something I picked up after becoming a vampire. I learned while I was human."

Her eyebrows lifted in obvious interest. "While you were human? Who taught you?"

"Pappy, my grandfather on my mother's side, was a master craftsman. He earned a modest income from making furniture. At least until the depression hit. He began teaching me when I was young, but I was never really interested in pursuing the craft. As a result, I never developed his level of skill. Not back then anyway," I qualified as I glanced at my latest creation, which put to shame anything that even the most gifted craftsman could make.

Bella smiled as she leaned against my Jeep. "What do you remember about him?"

I frowned. "Not much. Most of what I remember are general, vague things like the fact he taught me about woodworking. He died a couple of years before I did."

"I'm sorry, Emmett," she whispered with genuine sympathy as if it had happened recently.

I smiled gratefully as I met her eyes. "Thanks. It was a long time ago." I held her gaze for another second before I let mine wander, staring at nothing, lost in thought. "There is one thing I remembered while working on this chest, probably because of the similarity in circumstances."

I no longer saw the garage as I lost myself in the recently discovered memory.

I felt tremendously guilty as I entered the barn where Pappy stored his lumber while it dried. The disappointment on Momma's face was something I would never forget. I didn't understand why my brother didn't feel the same level of guilt I did. Technically, I was the one that knocked the crucifix off the wall. The fall to the hard floor caused the wooden cross to crack. It was still in one piece, but when Momma put it back on the wall the figure of Jesus didn't hang quite straight. Even though she nodded her acceptance when I apologized she was still upset. It was special to her – a wedding gift from her grandparents in Scotland.

If only my brother hadn't been waiting to catch me by surprise. That's the only way he had any chance of taking me. He was older, but I was bigger. We knew Momma didn't allow any horsing around inside the house, but when he grabbed me I didn't think, I simply reacted.

'If only's no longer mattered. What did matter was making the situation right again. I shook my head remembering the way my brother shrugged his shoulders when I suggested we needed to do something to make up for the error. I didn't understand his careless attitude. I knew he loved Momma as much as I did, but her disappointment didn't seem to affect him the same way. Of course, maybe the difference was in the way we each handled problems. He was more analytical, thinking things through, rationalizing. But I had to act, to _do_ something.

I turned at the sound of footsteps. "Emmett, what brings you out here boy?"

"Pappy," I mumbled as I turned back to the stacks of wood. "I need to make something for Momma."

"All right," he said slowly, stepping to my side, sensing my mood. "What do you have in mind?"

I dropped my head and closed my eyes. Admitting my mistake and facing his disappointment wouldn't be easy, but in the end I knew he would help. "I need to make her a new crucifix," I said with conviction.

When he didn't say anything I risked a glance at him. Smelling slightly of pipe tobacco and sawdust, he stood silently studying me with his arms crossed on his broad chest, his green eyes narrowed, his jaw firmly set and his lips held in a taut line. With his graying hair and buzz cut he looked like a retired drill sergeant that could still command respect. I nervously waited for him to speak. Finally, his weathered face relaxed and when he spoke it was with his typical easy brogue. "I don't need the why of it all. I can see you're punishing yourself more than I would, boy. But how bad is it?"

I breathed a small sigh of relief and mechanically described the condition of the crucifix.

Pappy nodded as his eyes began to scan the stacks of wood. "It shouldn't be too hard to replace the cross," he began.

I shook my head. "No, I want to make a whole new crucifix."

"You know you're talking about some very detailed carving. You'd be better off using the metal figure from the other one and attaching it to a new cross," he said skeptically.

I was shaking my head again before he finished. "It's not enough. It's too easy." I didn't know how to explain it to him. I'm not sure I understood why I was compelled to take on a project that just might prove to be more difficult than I was capable of doing. "I want to make a crucifix that's all one piece."

He studied me again. "I'm not going to be able to change your mind, am I?"

"No," I said resolutely, standing at my full height.

"Well then, the wood I have here is not what you need. You need a log so you can carve it from the heart of the tree."

It took nearly two weeks to find a felled tree to suit my needs. It was a medium-sized oak tree that had been hit by a larger pine tree in a short-lived domino effect. The oak rested against a larger tree, keeping it off the ground and delaying the rotting process.

Pappy came back with me to cut the trunk into three logs. We worked as a team at opposite ends of the saw. I relished the physical labor, each drop of sweat a payment toward righting a wrong.

Preparing the wood took longer than I imagined it would. When I was finally able to start carving I threw my whole self into the effort – a personal challenge to not only do my best, but to make it perfect. Pappy was there every step of the way, guiding, instructing, coaching, but allowing me to do the work myself. I was awed as the figure of Christ began to emerge from what had been a simple block of wood. I listened carefully as Pappy told me which tools to use and when.

The work was excruciatingly slow. It took weeks to complete it. I could hardly believe it the day I stood looking at the finished carving. The rustic looking wood wasn't as perfect as the cast metal figure; it had a few minor flaws. I was sure Pappy could have done a better job, but I had given the project my best effort and it had turned out better than I had expected.

I wanted to rush into the house to give Momma my peace offering, but Pappy stopped me. "You need to decide if you want to stain it or leave it natural."

"Natural," I blurted hastily. Now that it was done I wanted to give it to Momma. I had already used up a decade's worth of patience on this project; I didn't want to take more time to finish it.

"You do it the way you want, boy, but think about it for a moment. It will look best if there is a contrast between the cross and figure. My suggestion is you stain the cross and leave the figure natural." He watched me for a moment. When I didn't reply he continued, "You still need to seal it even if you leave it all natural. After you apply the sealer you can't touch it for a few days, until it's completely dry or you'll ruin the finish," Pappy explained, deflating my eagerness.

He chuckled as I scowled at the thought of _days _before I could declare this project finished. I grudgingly picked up a brush and began applying the stain to the cross.

Five insufferably long days later, and with my patience completely used up, I held the finished crucifix gently in my hands. I pulled the clean bandana out of my pocket and carefully wrapped the crucifix inside before running to the house to find Momma.

Momma was standing at the sink washing the supper dishes when I entered the kitchen. I stopped, suddenly nervous and mute.

"What have you got there, Emmett?" she asked with a questioning glance over her shoulder.

I cleared my throat and stepped closer, holding out the gift. "I made something for you."

With a confused but pleased smile she turned and dried her hands on her apron before taking the bundle. "What's the occasion?"

I shrugged. "Just because I love you, and I'm trying to do the right thing."

I watched as she opened the bandana. A lump formed in my throat as her hands shook and her eyes grew wet while she looked at the inscription on the back – "Sorry. Love, Emmett." After what seemed an eternity, she finally found her voice. "It's beautiful Emmett," she whispered as she stretched to hug my neck. I ducked obligingly as she kissed my cheek.

"I'm sorry for messing up the other one. I thought…" I trailed off, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. This was harder than I thought it would be. "I thought this might make up for that mistake just a little. I'm really sorry Momma."

There was considerable wisdom in her eyes as she smiled. "I forgave you when it happened. I had no idea you've felt so badly about it all this time." She looked down at the crucifix and then hugged it to her chest. "Thank you for this. It makes me very happy that you thought enough of it to make a new crucifix for me. I'll find another place of honor in the house to hang this one."

The sound of Rosalie's M3 turning into the drive brought me back to the present, the garage replacing the cloudy image of my crucifix hanging on the wall at the top of the stairs of my childhood home.

When my gaze slid back to Bella her eyes were wide with wonder. "You carved a crucifix?"

I laughed. "I was no saint, but Momma was a God-fearing woman who did her best with us kids. I wanted her to be proud of me."

"I'm sure she was, Emmett," Bella smiled.

Thinking of all the things I'd done while human, I was sure Momma wouldn't have been happy about many of them. "Maybe," I said with a shrug as I took her arm and gently pulled her towards the door.

The sounds of Edward and Jasper running through the forest were close. If I timed this right I could not only keep Rose's chest a surprise until it was finished, but I could also give Bella a little surprise of her own. Edward, of course, heard my thoughts and altered his course so that he appeared behind her, slipping his arms around her waist just as she stepped out the door. Her surprised gasp, embarrassed blush and excitedly racing heartbeat made me laugh.

"I love surprises. They're so much fun!" I exclaimed as I left in search of Rosalie, intrigued as I imagined all the possible reactions to Rosalie's surprise. Just a few more days, if the wait didn't drive me insane first. But Rose was more than worth it all.


End file.
